


Into the Night

by Dekka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016-17 season, Angst, Falling Through Ice, Fever, Fevers, Group Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Panic, Pneumonia, Starving, Survival Situation, Trauma, hunger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:11:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: "Team Bonding,"Coach said."It’ll be fun."Aka: The Leafs are thrown into a very real, very unplanned survival situation(each chapter, besides for the intro, is told from a different player's perspective)





	1. Introduction to the wild

Among the NHL bye weeks are reserved for hot sand, cool water, early flights, and cheat days. So naturally the Leafs 2.0, rookie crop and all, decide to put their own twist on it. 

_"Team Bonding"_ , Coach said. _"It’ll be fun." ___

Northern Canada in the dead middle of winter is decidedly _not fun_. It's almost comical that a surprise blizzard decides to hit the one week that they’re staying in a cabin not equipped to house the ten idiots who agreed to Coach’s northern ice adventure. _Leaf's luck_ , they call it.

With the piling snow they can't leave the cabin and the roads back to the nearest town aren't safe enough to be on, so they resign themselves to hours of boredom until they're rescued. It doesn't seem like a big deal at the time, just inconvenient and a little bit of a buzz-kill, but they're making the best of it.

If anything, some of them are hoping that being trapped together will improve their on-ice chemistry.

It's all a joke until it isn't, Morgan leaving their rookie crop to settle next to Coach at the kitchen table. "Calling home?" he asks, pointing to the prehistoric-looking phone Babcock has sitting in front of himself. He gets a loose smile but not much else.

There's tension in Babcock's face that doesn't break until he leans forward, his hand wrapping around Mo's shoulder.

"I trust you, Morgan. I'm going to need your help here. You'll need to watch out for the younger guys." The light atmosphere in the room grows dark between them. 

__Surrounding the fireplace, Mitch, Brownie, Willy, and Auston are still playing would you rather._ _

__“Eat the Penguin, Wuss” Kadri chirps Brownie, loud enough to draw their attention for just a second. Morgan doesn’t want to know and Coach looks even less amused._ _

__“Can’t really get into too much trouble up here, though,” he jokes, trying to rid the heaviness settling in his stomach. Hours ago, when the snow was falling in blankets, they lost all connection to the outside world besides for the one radio phone in the kitchen._ _

__Coach doesn’t laugh, eyes scanning the room. There’s something eerie about his silence._ _

__“Mitchy and Brownie will get cold first. They’re too lean to stay warm for long.” It’s then, between the concerned set of Coach’s eyes and his wavering voice, that Morgan realizes just how serious the situation is. “It’s just a couple days, right?”_ _

__Coach nods, his eyes taking another sweeping glance of the room. “We'll have enough food if we’re careful, but firewood wont last much longer.”_ _

__The heaviness in Morgan’s stomach roots itself there as he tries to deny it again, "but Coach, the heat’s on.” Even as he says it, he feels a slight chill in the air._ _

__“The power will go out soon.” As if reaffirming Babcock's words, the lights flicker but push on, re-bathing the room in warm lighting. The rookies stop their game, loud voices cutting off abruptly until the next round of chirping starts. They’re entirely unbothered as Morgan sweats through his first layer of clothing._ _

__Mitch, with his unwavering positive outlook, treats them being snowed-in like an adventure._ _

__“Never have I ever?” He asks their group. They’ve gone through too many rounds of stupid high school-esque games for his suggestion to get anything more than some annoyed groans._ _

__“Coach, any news?” Willy begs. Babcock barely looks his way, bent over the binder he’s been looking through for the last few hours. He doesn't know how to break the news, so he gets it out quick, like a band-aid. “Their evacuation teams had to turn back, the storm’s getting too violent.”_ _

Silence spreads across the room like wild fire, so different from their glacial thoughts and panicked stares. 

__“What does that mean?” Auston asks, when no one seems willing to._ _

__Coach finally turns toward his team, barely able to meet the young, inquisitive eyes staring back at him. “It means we need to prepare to be here for longer than a couple days.”_ _

__Everyone collectively takes a glance around, passing unbelieving looks._ _

__“Is this part of the trip?” Mitch asks, smile starting to grow, looking around as if waiting for someone to admit it was all a joke. “Like team bonding, how well do we survive together type thing?”_ _

__Babcock winces, his own smile brittle. Mitch has always been positive, even sometimes to a fault. “I wish it was,” he answers honestly.__

____

____

__It's not easy to watch the kid's smile wean as he drops down next to Auston, optimism flaking as the other rookie takes him under his arm. It's good that they have each other. This won't be easy._ _

__Sensing the disconnect with his team Babcock works to settle them. “We’re going to be fine. I’ve been reading through this emergency binder for the last couple hours and if we follow these tips we’ll make it out of here with nothing more than some minor difficulties.”_ _

__He figures giving them all something productive to do will keep everyone calm, so they start first by making a home-base, pushing furniture to the side and dragging all their mattresses and blankets into the large living room._ _

__“Like a giant sleepover,” Mitch says, some of his happiness returning as they push the final bed into place. He gets shoved into the giant pile of blankets for his trouble._ _

__“We need to close every door and block windows with any furniture we can.”_ _

__“Candles, look for candles too!”_ _

__“Extra blankets go by the fire.”_ _

__So they set off to work, slowly starting to comprehend the seriousness of the situation._ _

__By ten pm the power flickers then goes, plunging them into darkness. One by one they light candles, only the minimum to conserve the few they have._ _

__For a long time after that they sit on their respected mattresses, barely talking. Reality has finally struck and silence has taken over, somehow louder than the sounds of the violent winds outside._ _

__As night goes on they all start off under their blankets, sleeping side by side on their own mattresses, but by two am they’ve all shuffled around, pressing close to one another to fight the chill slowly seeping into the room._ _

__Morning is the hardest. Along with reality, attitudes have started to rear their ugly heads. It’s hard not to let the situation get the best of them while their stomachs are growling and hands shaking._ _

__“I bet the other guys are on some beach right now,” Auston says wistfully. He was planning to go back home for the week before Mitch convinced him to come on this nightmare of a trip. Despite himself, he’s irrationally angry at the other rookie, too angry to notice the shivers raking the smaller frame next to him._ _

__“By the fire,” Coach prods as he walks by, grabbing onto the back of Mitch’s hoodie to drag him closer to the flames._ _

__He settles there, finally breathing easier, warming his shaking hands by the fire._ _

__For as much as Auston’s annoyed, he spent the night next to Mitch and knows just how cold his hands and feet are and how cold the rest of his body must be. “Take my jacket," he says as he folds it over Mitch’s shoulders, a peace offering, even when Mitch protests._ _

__Morgan forces Brownie closer to the flames next._ _

__Everything’s starting to feel the slightest bit manageable. Tensions are high, but everyone knows at the end of this road is a hot dinner and warm bed, and it helps them push on._ _

Leaf's luck comes for them again though when hours later Mitch breaks into a cold sweat that has Babcock running his mouth over their emergency radio phone to the park rangers, breath hitched and audible panic seeping through to his voice. 

__“Guys I’m fine,” Mitch argues. No one’s fooled, his fever-bright eyes panicked under his easy smile. His voice sounds stuffy and his forehead is shiny with sweat, all obvious tells. Adding insult to injury, his cough is a loud, hacking thing that leaves him breathless. As he tries to shed layers under the heat of his fever Morgan and Auston have to force his hands to a stand still. It's a struggle they're not prepared to fight, especially with Mitch so insistent that he's fine._ _

__The huddle around them grows, players catching on that something is wrong. It makes Coach shuffle by seconds later as he pockets their precious radio phone.__

____

____

His eyes are calculating, again, back to the silent studying he's been doing all day. “You shouldn't be sweating as hypothermia sets in," he says. 

__Even just the word 'hypothermia' plunges the room back into the tense silence they had only just broken._ _

__It’s Willy that breaks first, this time. “This is really happening,” he whispers._ _

The answering nods around him are slow, as if unsure themselves. No one expected to be thrust into the night, their survival suddenly something worth taking bets over.

"We're going to be okay," Morgan promises his team. Even as he says it he finds his eyes on the same sweeping path Babcock's were on hours earlier. Nature, it seems, has decided to test them, and there's no telling who'll win so early in the game.


	2. Frederik Andersen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie breaks down the only way he knows how- by planning to survive, even if it means putting himself and Connor before the team

Freddie has always adapted well. Denmark was home but nothing special and even still he misses it somedays like a limb, even though most days he doesn't think twice on it. It never got too hot there and it never got too cold; a happy medium that helped him understand the difference between extremes and routines. California was like a leap in the dark when he went, but it made the jump to Toronto easier- he’s always centered himself with people, not places, anyway, and the people of Toronto are easier, somehow. 

After training camp he wasn't that surprised to find that he connected so well with Connor Brown. He’s his type, soft and cute in ways that make him want to use his body to shield and protect. 

It’s his goalie instinct, he thinks, that makes him look for the smallest guy in the room to provide cover for. 

At first he met Mitch, who- as much as he hates to admit it- is also his type, but there’s nothing but borderline annoyance and fondness between them that’s eerily similar to loving your younger sibling. Either way, Auston Matthews made it pretty clear that Mitch is already taken, even if both of them are completely oblivious to it. Seeing the way they dance around each other, Freddie knows they’ll figure it out soon. He’s seen this narrative play out too many times to doubt it. 

Between days at the rink and traveling he’s grown closer to Auston, kept a safe arm’s length between him and Mitch, and has been cautiously circling Brownie, trying not to scare him off. There's a bit of an age gap between them, but Connor fits with him in ways people his age and type normally don't. 

It doesn’t help that more often than not that their group of four find themselves on outings that are blatantly similar to double dates. 

What it all comes down to, though, is the way Brownie gave him those big, pleading eyes, and practically begged him to come on this trip. 

He should’ve known it would end in disaster. 

***

As much as Auston likes to pretend he’s chill, he’s started opening up around them. Freddie’s seen it in small glimpses, being pulled out of Matts tooth and nail by none other than Mitch Marner. It’s his laugh, his exaggerated looks and excited tone, that give it away; it’s like a whole different person from his persona. 

Seeing him now, bottled back up, gently pressing a wet washcloth to Mitch’s forehead, Freddie can’t help but feel the same urge to protect that he gets around Brownie. It’s different, in a way, because Auston strictly falls in the ‘bro’ category for him, but it’s there, like a itch he can't quite scratch. 

The feeling mounts to the point that it forces him to his feet reluctantly, fighting off the shivers he can feel starting in his hands. From the pile of their blankets, Brownie perks up, head popping out to watch him stand. They abandoned their own beds for a shared one hours ago, when the heat from the fire stopped being enough to reach the edges of the vast living room they’re shoved together in. 

“I’m gonna check on Mitch and Auston,” he whispers. It’s dark in the room, the fire and few candles their only light. The sun went down only hours ago, but everyone’s too exhausted to try to stay awake. They’ve only been snowed-in for 39 hours and it’s already getting harder by the minute to stay in a good place mentally. 

“You’ll come back?” Connor croaks. His eyes are wide, fearful. Freddie can only nod back, his chest seizing from the comfort he cant provide. 

Stepping around his teammate’s beds in the near-dark isn’t easy, but he manages by a thread. Coach is still awake by the fire, tending to it, and Freddie gives him a nod before he settles on the other side of Mitch’s mattress. It’s hard on his legs, since everything’s on the floor and his body’s not made for these small spaces, but the gesture seems needed. Auston gives him a half-smile, half-grimace. 

“His fever’s back up,” he answers, before Freddie even has to ask. 

It’s not hard to notice that Mitch is declining fast. There’s sweat pooled around his collar, a tension in his face that looks so out of place that Freddie can’t look for very long. 

He feels for Auston most, though, because if this was Connor he’d be braving the elements, personally dragging them to safety, even if it killed him. 

Between them Mitch groans, weakly fighting to shed away the layers cocooning him in heat. They have to hold him down then, so that he doesn’t get rid of his coat. It’s too cold in the room. The medical team over the radio phone said they’re better off keeping him warm. That doesn’t make it any easier to hold him as he struggles for reprieve. 

The worst part is, is how fast it happened. Just ten hours ago Mitch was sitting by the fire with Brownie, looking pale but relatively okay, all things considered. 

“We’re going to be fine.” 

At first Freddie thinks it’s meant for him, but when he can bare to look at Auston, he sees the carefully guarded panic laced in his teammate's eyes. It’s only then, curious at Matts’ change, suddenly hiding his worry, that he notices that Mitch’s eyes are half open, fighting to hold onto Auston’s stare. The sickness wins out eventually though, their gaze broken as Mitch falls back into a restless sleep. 

“Before, he fell in,” Auston says, low, like a secret. 

Freddie doesn’t understand. 

“The pond, outside.” Auston glances back at Babcock, but their Coach's gaze is lost in the fire. 

“We went out there, we weren’t paying attention. The ice- it was broken. Mitchy fell through.” The rookie’s breathing is harsh, panicked. 

Freddie remembers when they first got to the cabin, how everyone had split off to explore. Mitch and Auston had disappeared for hours. Everything falls into place. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” It’s maybe harsher than he means, Auston flinching under his tone, but they could’ve done something if they knew sooner that Mitch had started off the day plunged in ice water. Maybe he wouldn’t be so sick now if they worked ahead of the problem. 

Auston scrubs at face, not letting his eyes leave his hands that are tangled with one of Mitch’s now. “Everyone treats him like he’s breakable. He didn’t want the guys to worry. I was- it was stupid to agree.” 

Freddie doesn’t know what to say. He’s not equipped for this. His calm exterior can only hold for so long. 

“We need to tell Babcock,” he says and takes the option away from Auston, calling coach over. 

He probably wont be forgiven for a long time, but if Coach knows what really happened he can explain the situation better to the medical professionals they have access to over the radio phone. 

“What’s happening?” he asks as he approaches them, eyes nearly frantic as he searches over Mitch’s fever-stricken form. 

Freddie looks to Auston and slowly, the truth comes out. 

“He wasn’t under for even a second,” Auston defends. His eyes are wide, innocent, scared. If nothing else, it’s proof of just how young he really is. Eighteen and the weight of the world is on his shoulders, as well as the survival of his new friend, his new teammate. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Babcock tells him. There’s not sympathy in his tone, but something akin, nearly touching on the edge of regret. 

“I’ll make the call in.” He leaves them like that, patting Mitch’s leg and Auston’s shoulder before he retreats to the table in the corner. 

“This will help him,” Freddie promises Auston. It’s all he can do. He leaves him as he’s cradling Mitch’s limp hand to his chest. 

Connor’s sleeping by the time he gets back to their mattress, but he still shifts to accommodate Freddie, burying into his warmth once they settle. 

If there’s not a rescue team soon, Freddie knows he wont hesitate to take matters into his own hands. He’s not dedicated to this team yet like some of the vets or some of the young guys are that have only known the Leafs, the NHL, for less than a couple months. It’s a strength here as much as it is a weakness, leaving him a lone wolf in a pack. 

They wont be here forever but even a week would be detrimental. Freddie knows there's probably only a couple day's worth of food left. Water will have to be collected from the snow outside, which will only drop the temperature inside with every outer door they have to open. Forty hours in and their resources are low and already one man is down.

For the others it’s hard to see. They’re blinded by the idea of the team, working for the better of the whole, thinking that alone will get them out of here. Freddie knows better. He knows that once food is gone tensions will rise and that as Mitch gets sicker players will break down and realize that this isn’t a story to write home about. 

This is real, this is survival, and Freddie will do everything he can to get him and Brownie out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking each chapter will be from a different player's perspective, let me know what you think!
> 
> Comments feed the writer :)
> 
> I'm aware that some people aren't going to like Freddie (in a way) turning against the team, but I think at this point, not being familiar with the guys since he's new to the rooster, he'd be more concerned for himself and the couple guys he is close to than being concerned for everyone. Maybe the struggles they face together will change that though ;)


	3. Matt Martin

Like most things in his life, Matt Martin’s sure he could find a way to blame Mitch Marner for the outcome. That feels a little harsh, though, when the kid can’t even defend himself, given the circumstances. 

The thing is, is that it’s Mitch, so Matt just keeps expecting him to pop up from his pile of blankets, a smile on his face as he begs Matt to, like, do snow angels shirtless or start a snowball fight with Babs, or something equally as ridiculous that’s really nothing more than a death wish.

It’s been months since he met the kid, but still, it feels like he’s been watching over him for years. The other week Sydney plucked out a gray hair for him and he’d bet his life that if that strand could talk, it would be screaming “ _Mitch Marner was here_.” 

That’s besides the point, though, because as much as Matt hates the kid, he also loves him and he’s not going to let him go down in some off-grid cabin in the Canadian wilderness, even though Mitch would probably rate that as, like, one of the coolest ways to die. 

So maybe Matt knows that the downstairs bathroom in the cabin has an old bottle of Ibuprofen and theoretically, for the good of the whole, he should tell Babcock so that they can use it incase someone gets injured, but Mitch _is_ injured, as far as he’s concerned. 

Around dinner-less dinner time, they can't even get Mitch sitting up to drink some water. He's too weak and Matt knows the time to act is now or never. The drug, at the very least, would help the kid's fever, so in the middle of the night Matt breaks through their bolted doors to the rest of the house, hoping no one notices the temporary draft, and steals the bottle. What everyone doesn’t know cant hurt them. 

The hardest part of his plan is getting Auston to give up his vigil, but thankfully the kid has to sleep at some point. Matt’s forced to stay awake until four am, when Auston finally starts snoring, and even then he snaps in Rookie’s face, daring him to wake up. 

Around his crouched form his other teammates are oblivious, knocked out from another food-less day. They’re only three days in, but still, hunger fucks with people, especially people who’re used to such high calorie intakes. 

What Matt doesn’t plan for is way, even as he gets Mitch sitting up, that the kid stays sleeping, passed out. It’s a testament to how much he needs the drugs. 

In preparation, for the first time since middle school, Matt says a prayer. On ‘Amen’ he forces Mitch’s mouth open, puts the pill as far back as he can reach, then drowns the kid the water. 

He splutters and Matt, voice low in the night, whispers, _begs_ , “swallow, Mitchy,” with his hand covering the rookie’s mouth. 

When Mitch coughs the pill doesn’t come back up and Matt repeats the motion four times, always taking quick glances around at the bundles of his teammates. No one moves and he settles Mitch’s limp form back against the pillows.

Matt's bed isn’t far, so he makes sure any evidence that he was there is gone and curls into his blankets.

***

He wakes up to someone shaking him, their words a jumbled, fierce attack of sound so early in the morning. 

When he can see past the sleep in his eyes, Auston’s face comes into focus. 

“What?” he groans. It cant be past six am, but light is already flooding in the parts of the windows that they couldn’t cover to keep in the heat. 

“Mitch,” Auston pants, and that wakes Matt up pretty quickly, but what Auston says next does so even more. “I saw you leaving his bedside.” It’s accusatory. 

“Auston,” he starts, thinking the worst, thinking Mitch somehow got even more sick, but his attack is stopped by the shredded croak of a voice that’s been rubbed raw from fever for the last two days, “Leave ‘m alone.” 

His stomach swoops. Like a kid on Christmas, he practically jumps out of bed, and, sure enough, Mitch is sitting up, blankets wrapped tight around his shoulders and Morgan at his back, rubbing warmth into Mitchy’s sides. 

“Thank fuck,” Matt curses. There’s relief like he’s never felt before washing over his body. 

“Make room,” he forces, pushing all up in Mitch’s space. He smells awful, fucking reeks, but Matt’s too happy at seeing him alive to even care as he pulls him under his arm. 

“Easy,” Morgan warns, but Matt brushes it off; he’ll squeeze Mitch as hard as he damn well pleases after the panic that kid caused. 

Eventually it’s Auston that forces him back. Mitch still stays leaned into his side when they pull apart and Matt honestly cant tell if it’s because he wants the comfort or because he’s too weak to stay sitting up on his own. 

There’s no time to dwell on it, Auston is crowding in next to them, voice practically a whisper. “Whatever you did, or gave him, we need more of it,” he says. 

Matt knows there’s only five pills left. That’s not even two doses and Mitch should be taking them every four hours. 

“It’s just Ibuprofen, I found some downstairs before we boarded up the house for heat,” he explains. Morgan is still at Mitch’s back and he nods approvingly, “it’s good he’s responding to just a regular pain medication.” 

“There’s only five pills left,” Matt tells them, not wanting to get their hopes up. It’s Mitch’s response that startles him. He chokes on a laugh that sounds like sandpaper and hides his face in the hollow of Matt’s throat. 

“Mitchy?” Auston questions, careful. 

“It’s okay,” he answers, “I can go back.” 

It’s doesn’t make much sense but Morgan, behind Mitch’s back, waves away their confused stares. 

“We’ll talk later,” he says and they do, only minutes later, once Mitch has to lay down again, too tired from just sitting upright and talking. They leave him under Willy’s watchful eye and huddle by the door. 

“He’s not making sense all the time,” Morgan explains. Silent, Auston nods, “I noticed that, too.” 

Matt doesn’t get why they’re looking into it. “He’s awake, that’s enough right now. That’s better than four hours ago.” 

“Matt we have to-”

He cuts Morgan off, “there’s nothing we can do expect be grateful that he’s alive. We can worry about everything else once there’s actual doctors here.” Retreating back to Mitch, he leaves them, ignoring their scared eyes. Every part of his body wants to deny their worry and focus on the present. Even if Mitch is just sitting up and talking, that’s enough for him. It’s better. It’s what they’re working with. 

***

When Babcock wakes up, only an hour later, he goes to check on Mitch first before making his rounds. 

“He woke up, was even talking for a while,” Morgan explains. They’re crouched over Mitch, Babcock with the back of his hand pressed to Mitchy’s forehead. It’s oddly reminiscent of a parent taking care of their child. 

Matt can visibly see the same wave of relief that washed over him hours ago now wash over Babs. It’s like he’s taking off Amour, settling from war. 

As Babs stands he glances around their close huddle, almost analyzing them. Matt prays the pill bottle is still buried in his sheets. He doesn’t think Coach would keep the medication from Mitch, but these kind of situations change people in ways you’d never imagine and Matt’s not willing to take the risk. 

Babcock stops his appraising stare, clapping Matt on the back. “Good,” he says, like he knows what they’ve done, “let me know if he wakes up again.” 

When he’s gone it’s like a string is cut from all of them and Morgan follows after their Coach’s retreating form to help check on more of the guys. 

“How will we get him his next dose if everyone’s awake?” Auston asks. Matt doesn’t have an answer. Even if Mitch is coherent enough to take the pills, he thinks the kid would worry about other people having access to the meds if they happened to get hurt. 

Either way, they decide to give him half a dose at night and another in the morning. Maybe by then the storm will have calmed down, giving the rangers a chance to send in help. 

***

Throughout the day, Matt finds his gaze locking with Freddie’s more than once. He wonders for a while if he’s suspicious, but either way, Matt can’t find the will to care. More than one guy would step up to defend his actions if Freddie would ever say anything about him hoarding the pain pills. 

It’s just that there’s something scary in his eyes, something unpredictable and dangerous. It flashes, hot, whenever anyone gets too close to where he’s holding Brownie under his arm. 

Matt makes sure to keep an eye on him, knowing one guy could ruin everyone’s chance of survival. 

In the end it’s Auston that breaks Freddie’s tensed form. Matt doesn’t know how it happens, but as he’s pressing a cold washcloth to Mitch’s wrists, from the corner of his eye he can see Auston settle against Fred’s other side. It’s the soft, sweet affect their rookie crop seems to have on people. Matt’s been under that enchantment more than once, finding himself holding a rookie protectively in his arms in a way that never happened on his other teams. 

It settles him to the point that his worry fades and he can focus completely on Mitch. 

At first he thinks he’s imagining it, the shallow, uneven breaths coming from the kid, but he stays silent for a minute, then another, until he’s breathing the same pattern, getting light headed. 

“Coach,” he calls. The thumps of his beating heart are echoing in his throat. He chokes on them, backing up from Mitch’s pale body as his teammates crowd closer. 

“Get the phone,” Rielly yells. He falls to his knees next to Mitch’s chest, his hands frantically shedding the coat and blankets off of Mitchy. 

Matt doesn’t know what Mo thinks he can do to help. There’s nothing anyone of them can do. 

He finds himself sitting on the outskirts of the room, watching the guys he’s grown close to over the last few months hover and thrum, panicked into motion.

Even as he sees his teammates yelling there’s a deafness surrounding him, his body shutting out the terror that’s filling the room. Again and again all he hears are the too-fast pounds of his heartbeat. 

Auston shakes him, hard enough that he’s forced to shove him away to stop the excessive movements. 

“Mitch?” he asks, and his voice is almost as shredded as the kid’s was hours ago when he was talking, when he was sitting up, and alive, and okay, and- Auston shakes him again. 

“He’s okay, he’s okay,” he repeats, on a loop. It takes too long for the words to take root in Matt’s head. He cant believe them. 

“How?” he pants. He scrubs at his eyes to rid the tears from his vision. 

“He-,” Auston breaks into a smile, “he overheated.” The disbelief in his tone transfers until an almost manic laugh is forced from Matt’s chest. 

“Fucking overheated,” he repeats. Of course he overheated. Who doesn’t overheat in a zero degree room? 

Mitch Marner is a fucking pest. Matt breathes for the first time in what feels like hours. 

When he shakily gets to his feet he finds he’s not embarrassed, but only because everyone else seems just as traumatized. 

“Fuck you,” he says to Mitch’s passed out form when he finds the guts to get closer. He half expects the kid to be blue, but he’s healthily flushed, breathing evenly. Even as Matt says it he’s bending down, grabbing their spare washcloth and re-soaking it. For hours he stays there, pressing the cloth to sizzling skin. 

“Wake up, Mitchy,” he whispers with every other press. 

***

Around ten Mitch decides to listen and finally wakes up again. He doesn’t remember any of the panic from earlier, thankfully, but he’s ten times more exhausted than when he last woke up. 

“I need to pee,” he croaks as Matt holds him down to keep him from sitting upright. He’s barely even holding his arm out, not putting down any weight, but even that’s enough to keep Mitch pressed into the pillows. 

They haven’t talked about how they’re going to do this, lucky enough that Mitch has been too dehydrated for the last couple days to even think about peeing. 

It’s Auston that takes on the brunt of the issue, carrying Mitch there and coming back nearly ten minutes later.

There’s tears in his eyes and Mitch’s, but Matt doesn’t press, letting the rookies curl up around each other. 

To give them space he finds himself sitting around the kitchen table, helping Willy and Naz robotically make and divid up the three cans of soup they found this morning in the cellar. 

There’s something off about Willy. He’s tense and nearly silent, only talking when spoken to first, and even then his reactions are slow. Matt wouldn’t be worried given their circumstances, but just this morning Willy was happily blabbing to Mitch, filling him in on everything he’s missed for the few minutes he was awake. 

“Kid, you okay?” he asks, when Naz leaves them to start handing out bowls. He gets a forced smile, a bit of a wince, and a complete lie, “I’m good, Marty. Don’t worry.” 

Matt can’t help but keep an eye on him, watching as Willy settles with Zach when he leaves the table, curling silently into the older’s side. 

Already they’re breaking down into fractions; Mitch and Auston, Freddie and Connor, Zach and Willy all sticking close to one another as the vets circle, looking to help where they can. 

With everything happening with Mitch it was easy for Matt to hyper-focus his attention on their biggest problem, but looking around now, he sees his mistake. They don’t just have one problem. The guys are starving, tempers growing thin, the heat in the room weaning as their firewood supply goes. 

It’s then that the radio phone blares like an alarm, sounding off over and over again until Babcock can reach it. 

Everyone knows that whatever news they have coming will either make or break them.

They could be rescued.

They could be doomed to more days stranded on their own.

Anything could come over that line and all they can do is take it and pray they’re able to handle the consequences. 

Terrified, yet hopeful, Matt holds his breath as Babcock answers the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the chapter or what player you'd like to get their perspective from next!
> 
> Comments feed the writer :)


	4. Morgan Rielly

Morgan has been hanging on by a thread, keeping it together only for the sake of the rookies who day by day look to him for hope and guidance. He doesn’t know how to tell them he’s just as scared as they are. 

The only helpful antidote for him is pushing himself to help the others, not letting himself think about anything but what he can do, instead of all the things he cant. 

When the phone finally rings, he throws his rules out the window and lets himself hope. 

It’s been days, days of hunger rocking his stomach and shaking his hands, and he can’t help but think of home. His bed is probably just as unmade as when he left it, a warm spot under his thickest blanket still waiting for him to return. He thinks of his Mom’s home cooking, his Dad’s barbecue, and his brother wresting him in the basement for command of the remote. What he cant bear to think about is them keeping vigil by their phone, waiting to hear if he’s okay, if they’ve been rescued. 

Under the unending shiver in his chest, his heart aches. 

The starvation is making it hard to concentrate, but he pushes himself to anyway as Coach answers the call. 

Babcock is more than aware that the whole team hangs onto each and every word he’s saying, trying to tell if the news is good or bad. 

“Yes?” he asks, tepid over the line. As he listens to the rangers he turns his back to the team, an illusion of privacy. Everyone just stains harder to hear his words, bodies leaning in for warmth, for comfort, for news. 

Morgan wishes he didn’t. 

“I have a kid here,” Babcock says- low and so desperate that Morgan aches to be anywhere but here- and then he takes a deep breath, his voice shaking, admitting defeat, “he won’t last much longer.” 

The truth of the statement has Morgan reeling like he’s been hit, his breath leaving him like a punch. 

Just across the room Mitch is half buried under a pile of blankets, one arm hanging lifelessly off the edge of his bed in a way that when added to Babcock’s choked words, makes Morgan’s stomach turn viciously. 

It’s only made worse by the fact that Mitch is oblivious to the conversation happening only feet away, basking in the first easy sleep he’s had in days. At his side Auston is dutifully ignoring Babcock, whispering reassurances that Morgan doubts he believes. 

“ _You’re going to be okay, we’re going to go home soon_ ,” the other rookie promises, Mitch’s hand cradled to his chest as if that’ll warm the ghostly tinge to their teammate’s skin. 

Morgan can’t half-heartedly listen to Babcock struggle to stay composed any longer; he leaves the huddle of guys, stepping past teammates and shaking off their hands as they grab him to stay. 

“Mo,” Gards calls after him, but there’s nothing that could make him sit and hear the next words from Coach’s mouth: “ _We’ll decide as a team_.” 

It’s not good news, it’s not bad news; it’s a call to tell them that their fate is in their own hands. 

Mitch is blinking awake as Morgan settles himself on the rookie’s other side. 

“How’re you doing?” He asks, directing it Mitch but expecting the answer from Auston. 

Neither comes as Auston’s breath catches painfully on a choked-off sob and tears freely gather under his eyes. 

Mitch can only look up at them, his eyes hooded and sleepy as his free hand fights though the blankets to punch weakly at Mo’s thigh as if to say “ _I’m okay, I’m good_.” If he only knew. 

At the gesture, Auston’s pressed lips break into a smile through his tears. 

Outside of their protective huddle around Mitch, the voices of their teammates rise- some in anger and some in relief. On their own accord Morgan’s eyes shut briefly, willing the sounds to go away. He doesn’t want to be here anymore; he doesn’t think he can do this. 

“We have to try to get out of here,” Freddie yells over Gards. 

There’s enough push back at their goalie’s words, rookies speaking louder and louder to be heard. 

It’s Willy’s voice that comes out on top; “Freddie’s right.” 

Morgan’s eyes reopen to a silent room, Babcock stood on the table, his hands raised to placate them. 

“We have three opinions,” he tells them, his voice calming and somehow hopeful. 

It’s times like these Morgan marvels over Coach’s ability to stay leveled headed. 

“They made it clear getting to us isn’t possible. They’re not going to send their own men into danger” he explains, “but if we meet them halfway-”

“Mitch can’t even stand,” Zach argues, pushing away Willy’s attempts to calm him. 

There’s a low, fierce words enhanced between them, and when Zach withdraws, shoving Willy back a step, he sounds devastated. “We’re not leaving him here.” 

“So we all die?” Freddie points out as Willy shamefully backs away from the situation and Zach’s disbelieving stare. 

Babcock is letting them go off, his own eyes wide and fearful as his jaw clenches. He won’t decide their fate for them, so Morgan does.

He stands, pressing the clammy hand he was holding back to Mitch’s chest. “Coach said we have three options,” he says. His voice is low but it commands attention from the room in a way he never expected it could. It speaks volumes to amount of trust shared here. “I want to hear every possibility before we decide.” 

The guys agree with their silence, turning back to Babcock. 

“We can stay here and wait to be rescued or we can all go together,” Coach begins, but it’s Matt Martin who angrily finishes Babcock’s sentence- “Or we can leave Mitch behind to die.” 

“It’s for the good of the team,” Freddie snaps, getting in Martin’s face, “look around you, man. We’re as good as dead if we stay here and if we go we at least have a chance. He either dies in here or dies out there. Let his last memories be in front of a fire place, surrounded by his team, not out in the cold, slowing us down. It’ll kill more of us if we bring him, he wouldn’t want that.” 

“You don’t get to say what he’d want,” Matt yells, advancing on his teammate. Morgan is too tired to step forward, hoping that yelling will at least resolve whatever's built up between the two of them.

Brownie ends up being the one who gets between their fighting words and stances, pushing them away from each other, trying to calm each of them down. “Or we get to help sooner, get food and better coats and equipment and come back. Maybe there are rescuers willing to fight through the storm. Maybe they’ve just been held back by rules, maybe they want to help us come back for him with enough supplies to keep us all alive.” 

“Don’t be so naive,” Kadri whispers, just loud enough to be heard. 

There's something draining in these fights, each of them sparking with purpose and losing fuel fast against starvation, and even still, knowing this and seeing it firsthand, Morgan can’t help but feel betrayed, his already thin temper snapping as he steps into the huddle of his teammates. 

“Would Mitch leave any of you here?” He asks angrily. 

The painful beat of silence that travels through each of them is answer enough. 

“He would try to carry us all home.” Naz’s smile is wistful, like Mitch is already gone. 

The hopelessness in the room is made obvious by their guilt. 

“Option three,” Mo decides, daring anyone to fight him, “You guys go, I’ll wait here. I’m not leaving the kid.” 

Brownie’s eyes are already welling with tears. “I’ll bring back help, I promise I will,” he begs, but Freddie is dragging him away, bringing him back to their nest of blankets as he starts gathering whatever they’ll need. 

Babcock doesn’t say a word as he presses a map to the table and leaves the emergency go bag with supplies on the chair. It isn’t until everything is gathered that he addresses them, “I’ll explain where the evacuation team is meeting those of you who decide to go after I’ve talked to them again. You’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He makes it clear he wont be going with them, but keeps his disappointed eyes turned down, not wanting to make his players- his charges, his sons- feel bad for choosing survival over the life of their teammate. 

Later that night Morgan hears Marleau arguing with coach. 

“Mike, please,” he begs, but there’s no give in Babcock’s eyes, they stay steeled and stormy, always ending up back on Mitch. 

“I promised these kid’s parents that I’d watch out for their sons, that I’d guide them through this process. I never expected that would mean this, but I’m not going back on my word. I’m not going home without the kid, dead or alive. We’ll survive here until they can get help to us. I can’t just go back and see his parents, his family, mourn for him while I walk into the arms of mine.” 

Patrick fights away misplaced anger with tears in his eyes. “I have to go back to my family, I’m sorry, I wish I could stay.” 

“You don’t need to justify your actions,” Babcock promises him. “Just survive. Get the boys to safety. But I need you to do something for me, if you go.” 

“Anything,” Patty promises back. 

That night Babcock has them all write letters to their loved ones.

“The top priority is that these get back home,” he says solemnly. Everyone takes the task to heart, writing their love goodbyes to send home as some pack up to leave and brave the dangerous storm as others prepare to wait out starvation. 

The room is quiet, save for the occasional choked-off sob, each of them huddled over their paper, alone as they write what could be their last words. Darkness is no longer there as a reminder of time; it’s a feeling, a state of mind. 

Hours after private condolence, they try to get Mitch coherent enough to say some words to jot down for him, but he never understands, blinking through the haze of fever in confusion as they beg him to stay awake long enough to give them something to write to his family. 

After that, some guys chose to write their own letters to Mitch’s family, too.

It isn’t said out loud, but it’s understood that these are their justifications, their apologies for living as he gets sicker, so as the hours tick by the letters for him and his family grow. 

Morgan pretends he doesn’t see the page of Brownie’s handwriting, dotted with tears, promising Mitch that he’ll come back for him. He pretends he doesn’t see the guilt on his teammate’s faces, or the hope in some of their eyes as they plan out how to meet their rescuers half-way through the storm. 

He’ll never admit it, not even to himself, but in that moment he’s envious of their guilt. He wishes he could eat and sleep and see his family soon, even at the risk of dying in the eye of the storm, but one look back at Mitch cements his decision. 

In the morning, as others prepare to leave, the tone changes. 

Babcock, weary and without sleep, addresses them one last time. 

“We got another call just hours ago,” he explains. There’s something dark yet hopeful in his eyes, like he can’t decide over relief or pain for the news he’s about to give. 

As Morgan prepares himself, bracing for the impact of words in a way he never has before this disaster, he can only pray that someday soon he’ll know what it feels like to sit under the warmth of the sun with anything he could ever want or need just a phone call away. 

He can almost hear the sound of his Mom’s laugh echoing in the room, but when he turns he’s met only with the reality of the drawn and tired faces around him. 

Gard’s, with his eyes pinched in worry, places a steadying hand on his shoulder. They share a nod, an painful understanding, and turn back to Coach. 

They can only fight the fight in front of them to survive, so Morgan squares up one last time, ready for another round in the ring they’ve been thrown into and mercilessly beat down in time after time again, praying for reprieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments feed the writer:) 
> 
> I have no idea where to go with this so please leave suggestions if you have any/who you'd like the next chapter's perspective to be <3

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything else for this so if you'd be interested let me know! And def leave recommendations for where you'd like to see the story go since I have no plans for it! :)


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